Motocycle Thief
by Phantasmagor1a
Summary: He likes fucking her on his bike.


I go out of the house and walk down the steps to find him outside in the hot sun, throwing a spanner aside. He's fixing his bike again. A dirty rang hangs from his pocket and his ass crack is showing. I go up to him and pull the back of his jeans up.

"Hey, sexy," I say, climbing on top of his bike. He wipes sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and sighs, looking at me.

"Third time this month. Think it's time for me to get a new bike?" he asks.

"What's wrong?" I ask, looking down at the engine, which he'd been repairing. He opens his mouth and spews forth a long line of motorcycle language, which I had no idea what they meant.

"So it's not working?" I ask when he's done.

"It's working now," he replies.

I turn and put my hands on the gears. I feel like there's a curse on me bringing me to his motorbike and wanting to ride it.

"How you know?" I ask, looking up at him with mock puppy eyes. I want him to take me for a drive down the road. He smiles and throws his cloth aside. I'm tossed his helmet before he gets on behind me and kicks the brake aside.

"Lets find out," he says, and turns the accelerator. He begins speeding off into the afternoon sun and I laugh from the thrill of the speed and the wind in my face.

"Hold on tight," he tells me and I gladly do. It feels like the wind could just blow me away but I was surrounded by him from the back and the sides. I wasn't going anywhere. He takes one hand off the gears and puts on a pair of sunglasses. I turn slightly to look at his face, and he looks down to check if I'm okay. He looks cool like that. I kiss him on the cheek, feeling the stubble that he'd been too lazy to shave this morning. When he was repairing his bike, he never slept. He forgot all about me sometimes. To think he'd actually shave. He looks up at the road again.

"I wanna go faster," he says.

"No!" I cry out, but years of fucking me had taught him that when I say no, it actually means yes and so he steps down on the accelerator. I cling onto the front of the bike like a baby bird and he laughs. I smile into the side of my arm. I've used it to hide my face from the wind and sand coming at me. I lean back into him, my eyes closed. I feel us coming to a stop and I open them again.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Engine again," he says.

"Oh, I reply as he gets off. The bike beneath me shifts from his weight.

We're in the middle of nowhere. I take off my helmet and shake my hair out. The sun is huge and hot in the sky. I turn to find him using his cellphone to try and call a pickup but there's no reception. I hang his helmet from the front and lie back onto the length of the bike. Feeling the engine of that bike vibrating against me during the ride had made me slightly horny.

"What do we do?" I ask. He turns to me with a smile on his face and I know what he wants to do. He puts his phone back into his pocket and I sit up again. He leans over me, his hands on either side. I look into his gorgeous brown eyes, at the flawless tanned skin on his face and neck and I kiss him on the side of his jawbone. He smells like diesel, sweat, and aftershave. He groans and runs his hands down the side of my waist, brushing his fingers against the space of skin between the hem of my shirt and the top of my jean shorts.

"Is this my shirt?" he ask, his breath hot against my ear. I nod, lifting up the hem on his top so I can feel his smooth skin underneath. He laughs, looking at me. He takes off his own shirt and lays it on the seat.

"I want it back," he says, pushing me down so I'm lying on the seat. He takes off my shirt in one swift move and thrusts it aside. He looks down at me, staring me up and down. He likes what he sees, my sweaty skin shining in the afternoon sun and my face pink from the ride we'd just had, and so he plants his wet lips on my stomach. I moan slightly, feeling his tongue slide over my. I bury my fingers in his hair and urge him closer. He moves down to my bellybutton and kisses that too, before pulling away. I sit up slightly to take my bra off and he urges it off of me. It falls on the sandy road underneath us. He runs his tongue over the edge of one breast, getting close to the nipple but never touching it.

"Please," I mutter and he obliges, moving his wet tongue on top of it. I arch my back. I unbuckle his belt, after years of doing it I can take it off with one hand, which I do. I push the material of his jeans and boxers aside. He's hard, and I want him inside me right now. He does as not told and pops open the button on my shorts, sliding them off me so I'm completely naked.

"Come here," he says, lifting me to a sitting position. He brings one leg over his shoulder and looks down at my wet clit. He runs his rough fingers over and I gasp, clutching the edge of the bike for support. He teases me with his dick, running it in between my lips and almost penetrating me but never getting close to. He moves it over my clit one more time and I take matters into my own hands, roughly guiding it into me. He hooks his arm around my leg tight and begins thrusting. The pleasure is intense.

The hot road before us sends waves up into the air and we're both like sweaty pigs, hungry for sex. He leans over me and I like the closeness of it. I run my hand over the back of his head, smoothing his wet hair back. He buried his face in between my breasts like a little boy would to his mother. I stroke his hair gently as he goes on with his thrusting. I'm so close to coming. He hears my sounds, coming muffled from my throat and straightens up again. He uses his free hand to play with my clit.

My back arches and I cry out as the orgasm rushes over me. I close my eyes, feeling the release between my legs. I shudder, and then fall back, trembling. The release goes away. I feel the wetness between my legs, on him and the seat. I open my eyes and the sun blinds me, so I shift myself so he blocks it. He's getting the worst of it on his back and shoulders. I sit up slightly and he pulls himself out of me, slippery with my come.

I get off the bike and onto the ground. The hard gravel hurts my knees but I'm past caring. He moves so he's facing the sun. I take the base of his dick and run my tongue over the tip. He groans and leans back on the bike, one hand on the wet seat where I'd just came. He buries the other in my hair and urges his cock into my eager mouth. I take him in, all of him. I hold it for about a second and then I let him go again. I run my tongue from the base to the tip and then finger it with my thumb. I use the other to get some cum from between my legs to use it as lubricant when I'm playing with his balls.

He tilts his head back. I slide his cock in my mouth again to suck it. I move and down his shaft, watching him. His neck and shoulders are red, shiny from the sweat. I hear home moan and he comes into my mouth, hot and shaking. I swallow every last drop, feeling the saltiness go down my throat. I bring him back out slowly, still looking up at him. He's still for a second, and then tilts his head downwards, helping me off the ground. He brushes sand off my knees and kisses me on the side of my head. I return the kiss on his lips.

We somehow find out clothes, scattered all over the hot road, and dress for the journey home. We leave his bike there and walk back, talking about getting a new one. He doesn't want to, he wants to get this old on fixed instead.

"I thought of getting a car instead," he says. I stop in my tracks, my eyes wide. I'd drop the helmet I was holding for extra dramatic effect but I don't want to scratch it.

"Don't you dare," I say. He smiles and holds his hand out to me.

"I won't," he says, "I like fucking you on a bike."

I grab his hand and we continue on our way home, me, him and our bike.


End file.
